My creaky, sore bones have been made vertical, and for that I am grateful. I have to think that my neighbors must think there is something racy going on in my bedroom in as I try to move and stand upon waking. The pain is really something and I can not help but cry out or gasp as I move first thing in the morning. Thank God I live alone! Never thought it would happen (Squeeze joke.) I am trying not to make this blog about my health issues -- who the heck wants to hear that? But, this blog is about what's happening in my world am gradually seeing the impact of it all creeping up on me, and it is forefront on my busy mind, whether I like it or not. Warning, venting ahead.

With increasing entrapment in a painful, disagreeable body comes more things that aren't getting done that should be done. Or things that should be done better than they are currently being done. The outside of my house and yard needs a lot right now before winter. The legs are laughing, saying "Yeah, right! That's funny." The floors need a deep clean, as does the entire house, really. I feel like I am living with band aid-fixes on broken limbs, and not by choice.

Same is true with my art right now and it is probably the most bothersome. By the time I finish putting all the band aids on the needed places in my day of work, pets, and home, there is not much time and energy left to pursue the ideas my heart and mind cultivates. It is scary to see this happen. My current piece sits on the table, quietly waiting for its turn to be encrusted with beads, and the time never seems to come. 8:30 at night comes around and I am too tired and the pain is too great to give in to even one more hour of peaceful stitching, though I know it will make me feel better. All I can do is lay down. I have visions of my father doing the same thing and I want to scream...I swore I'd never live the passive, always resting life that he was forced to live (no medications back then when he had head-to-toe-pain from "some kind of arthritis." I can't even imagine what he went through.) I'm trying so hard to keep going...but...sometimes it is just so hard.

The ideas are still flowing, and even getting better in terms of their concepts, which I am happy to notice. But their appearance in the world as physical textile objects is sadly lacking. I am terrified of becoming one of those people who "think" they are an artist but never really do anything. The ones talked about at college graduation all those years ago when the speaker said "50% of you will not be making art within 5 years." Well. it's been 25 or so years...but I still feel the same punk attitude of "That won't be me!" If I don't try harder, it will be, though. My hands are stiff and subtly changing shape and I feel like there is a race against time.

So what gives? Do the floors stay half clean? The dogs don't get walked? The laundry stays in the washer? The weeds take over the yard? The bedroom windows never get cleaned? Or is the art made under duress after all is done, instead of resting the legs the way they are telling me to? If I "listened to my body" I'd live in a hole like a rat and never come out.

Last night I was really determined to do something, so I opened Adobe Photoshop and the current piece I am working on for a whole cloth quilted work. I am really excited about the imagery and exploring the possibilities for effects is almost overwhelming. I can see where stitching will go, where painting will go, what the piece could be like. It is exciting! Before I knew it an hour had gone by, seven versions of the file were made, and I was on a roll. Feeling good. Then Adobe crashed and I decided to leave it hung up over night to see if I could salvage the changes, and went to bed. At least a baby step happened.

I am left with another fine Squeeze quote. It was written in the context of a romantic relationship, but applies here as well, I think. "I want to be good, is that not enough?" Feels that way sometimes. At least it is Saturday, and I will challenge the RA beast without the workday, which should be better. Off to feed the farm and wash the floors. If you've read this much (honestly why would you?! Ha!) I hope you havea productive and happy day. Cheers!

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Amy Ropple is an artist and art educator who believes engaging in visual art can make life happier and more meaningful. This blog is a daily journal of creative habits and interests, as well as reflections on living with chronic autoimmune disease. Website: http://amyropple.com